


To Be King

by bluelionsbish



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Eventual Smut, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mentioned Black Eagles Students (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Blue Lions Students (Fire Emblem), Mentioned Golden Deer Students (Fire Emblem), Politics, Porn With Plot, Post-Timeskip | War Phase (Fire Emblem: Three Houses), Romance, Sexual Content, War, also he still hates his father, bluelionsbish, even after his death, felix hates his life but is too stubborn to change it, no beta we die like Glenn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-27
Updated: 2019-10-27
Packaged: 2021-01-04 19:35:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluelionsbish/pseuds/bluelionsbish
Summary: Felix wanted to break the crown nestled in his hands. To throw it far from his reach, so the unfamiliar cool of the metal could no longer sit on his brow.It reminded him of everything he had lost. Of who he had lost.But when dawn would break, he'd place it back on his head. He always did.





	To Be King

**Author's Note:**

> So I am officially felix trash.  
Warnings for adult language and ***SPOILERS*** (especially with Felix's S-support). Totally took poetic license with the plotline of three houses. Also no beta we die like Glenn.
> 
> In all honesty I hate writing about politics. They bore me, but I tried my best. Truthfully I rushed most of that part because what I really wanted to get into was the second half of the story lol  
This had initially just started out as a daydream and then spiralled out of control into a 15 page word mash, I'm sorry. Written with the reader mentioned as a "you" insert. I'm not overly fond of reading/writing "y/n" fics as it breaks the flow imho. Just forewarned.  
Cross posted. You can find this fic under bluelionsbish on wattpad only, if it's seen anywhere else please let me know!

Felix had been made king shortly after the prince and his professor went missing.

In the midst of the chaos that followed the attack at Garreg Mach, the Empire gained steady ground in Kingdom territory. It was less a war and more of a massacre. It left Felix without a home...and without a father.

Many of the other lords had bowed to Edelgard's forces. It made Felix sick, to think they would forgo their pride and become the lapdogs of some witchling queen. There were only a handful of loyalists left; that included Felix himself and Margrave Gautier, which in turn meant Sylvain.

Without a ruler, the kingdom was set to ruin. Their troops were disorganized and attacks folly, lands divided, and their people ready to die. It was then that the other lords stated that having a king would ultimately unite the kingdom, and set their sights on Felix. It had annoyed him to no end, being centered out like that.

At the age of nineteen, he had not been ready. He supposed he would never _be _ready, as someone who was unfit to rule and always would be. He was not the selfless kind of man a king should be. He had relished in the comfort of lurking in the boar's shadow.

But he no longer had that place to hide.

Truthfully, by her mother's marriage, Edelgard held the throne. Though Felix and the remaining Faerghus lords had stood fast against the empire's forces, refusing to give up what was left of the Holy Kingdom. It was no small act of rebellion, and had Felix known the crown would have sat upon his head, he might have reconsidered the side on which he stood.

As the Fraldarius family had served the royal line for generations, the natural choice for king would have been Rodrigue in the event of the boar's demise—his father had practically ruled alongside Lambert. But with the man dead, it left...him.

The alliance had been destroyed; their lords decimated or captured. No one had known where Claude went, leaving Holst scrambling to gather what was left of the Leicester nobles. The church of Seiros was no more—done in readily by Edelgard and her kin. Rhea was presumed dead, Seteth and Flayn had disappeared, and the monastery was in shambles.

It did not take Felix long to realize that he had been left with very few options.

When the remaining Faerghus lords came together, it was with raised voices and grief. Many clamoured for a funeral; a proper burial for the man who should have been king and the professor that had protected their lands. Felix wanted to scream they weren't dead. That they may be gone, but they were not _dead_. With some patience, although not his strongest virtue, he figured they would reveal themselves in time. He had felt that in his bones.

So when he had first been offered the crown, his immediate reaction was to cuss at the men who stood before him. That was the boar's crown, fit for only the boar's head. That responsibility—the lives left struggling in a doomed kingdom, they belonged on another man's shoulders. Not...his own. He was not bound by that duty, nor did he want to be. But the weight of the reality he had been thrust into could not be ignored; he could not cut it down with his blade as if it were an enemy, even if he wished he could.

With his stomach tied in knots, Felix's palm had itched for the hilt of his sword, a familiar anchor in the midst of all the unknown. Upon exiting the consul room, he had averted his gaze from Sylvain's searching eyes and practically fled.

But as he stood upon the crumbling steps of the castle in Fhirdiad only a few nights later, watching the city burn, he knew. There was no one else who could do it—who _would _do it. Glenn had died protecting their king; protecting his ideals and his values and the land they called home. To let it go, to watch everything go up in flames, it seemed like a waste.

Felix still had breath in his lungs. Breath left in him to fight. He wouldn't let their kingdom be cast to shit. He had spent a lifetime committed to things he had never signed up for. This wouldn't be any different.

Except it _was _different. _Everything _was different. Nothing felt right.

After the coronation, he had hid in his chambers. Goddess, _his _chambers. The hell he had walked into, the future that now stretched out before him...he rationalized that it would not be long before the boar came back to claim his crown. They would both come back, surely. He could hold on for a few months, a year at most.

But then it had been five.

There hadn't been much progress in reclaiming kingdom territory. The war still raged on, and each battle cost him more than the last. Claude had miraculously resurfaced, as well as a few members of his old house. And while Felix held Claude in high regard for his mind, he knew that once they had managed to quell the empire, there was little he could do if Claude decided he was more ambitious than he let on and obliterated what was left of Faerghus when all was said and done.

The five years sat heavily upon Felix. So heavily it left you cursing the goddess herself for robbing the man of his will, little by little.

He had never wanted this for himself. Never wanted the crown or considered himself a leader or saint. The burden of raising a kingdom from literal ashes was going to crush him one day.

You missed the bygone days of Garreg Mach—innocent and fragranced by rose coloured glasses. And you remembered, clear as day, the moment Felix decided to first be vulnerable with you.

_"I'm going to give up my title as lord," he says between swings, blade like an extension of his arm._

_"Why?" you merely watch him as he moves through his routine, muscles bunching and releasing as he positions himself almost gracefully. It was like watching a dancer, although instead of flowing robes there was a lot of flowing sweat._

_"The old man has the lord shit covered," he grits out, whacking the dummy hard enough with the wooden training-blade for it to keel over like an actual dead man. Hay poured out from its side. "I'm not interested in a future where I'm bound in servitude to others."_

_It appeared he was thinking about Glenn this time; it would explain why his jabs were sharper, his face darker. He always trained when he was trying to clear his mind._

_"Where will you go?"_

_"Wherever my blade takes me," he answers, and you laugh, because that was very much a Felix thing to say._

_You wait a moment, until he's just about to pivot into a new stance, and say, "I shall go with you."_

_The look of shock on his face as he stumbles is well worth the burn on yours._

*

Camaraderie on the battlefield had steadily grown into a friendship. And while Felix was trite and blunt, he could also be insightful and kind in his own right.

You quickly became an integral part of his life, sparring partner duties aside. Your steady presence was enough to ease his mind and balance his sword. A peace that he very rarely was able to come into on his own.

And he, he was a necessity to you. Consistent in who he was, you shortly realized he was a man you could trust. He never lied to you, and offered his support as best he could. Though his support was more often gruff than tender. He was strong enough to take care of himself, and so your fear of losing someone dear to you again vanished. Sleep came easier when he was near, knowing he was safe and so were you.

When Felix had become king, you saw very little of him. He had his responsibilities, and you had yours. He kept you at his side, as his advisor, despite you knowing nothing of politics and Fódlan itself, being from abroad. He had said he needed someone he could trust, and before you could suggest Ingrid or even Sylvain, you found yourself alone in the throne room you had been summoned to, stuck permanently with the title. Annette had giggled when you told her.

You had been a talented mage in your day. Perhaps that was why Felix was so keen on your input. He had begun to ask for your help more frequently in the war room—something that was, in itself, mind boggling as he was always hellbent on doing everything on his own.

He would have you sit in on their meetings, much to the lords' chagrins, and talk tactics with you afterwards. On more than one occasion, your suggestions on the placements of mages had saved the lives of countless troops on the battlefield. You were the strength to his weaknesses, usually.

But it left you little time in your search for your missing friends, Dimitri and Byleth. A search that you had been conducting behind Felix's back, not wanting to give him false hope or an additional burden. Though slowly, finding them deferred to the immediate needs of the kingdom and the companions you still had fighting alongside you.

It was a sunny day when Ingrid realized how dear Felix held you. She saw it in the way he watched you, almost hawk-like in intensity but creased with a softness Ingrid had never seen on his face. It took longer for Sylvain to catch on because of Felix's short temper, and that goddess damned streak of stubbornness in which he _refused _to show any emotion other than anger—but he did catch on, eventually. They wondered when his affections for you had started, how deep they ran, and if you were even _aware_ that Felix was in love with you.

They weren't even sure he had realized himself yet.

*

Near the end of the fifth year Felix was acting sovereign, he had been summoned by the lords of the kingdom.

"Who summons the _king_, of all people?" You mused, when he had told you what was on his schedule and to not expect him at the training grounds. He had quirked a smile before he left, which you considered a win.

Felix should have known his humour would die on his tongue, along with any patience he had for the red haired man standing before him.

"We ask you seek a wife and bare Faerghus an heir."

Felix nearly spat in their faces.

"Are you stupid? We're in the middle of a fucking war, I don't have time to play house."

The red haired man, Gautier, twitched slightly, "With respect, your _majesty_, to ensure the stability of a kingdom is to ensure its future. That begins with the continuation of the royal line. This war will end, and when it does, the people will look to you inhope. An heir would symbolize a promise to the kingdom; that despite our hardships, our lives will move on, and we will rise stronger than we ever have before."

Felix stared him down. He knew what it meant to move forward, Gautier didn't need to tell him. If there was peace to be had at the end of this war, he'd gladly embrace it. Now that the final battles were in sight, whether they came out of them victorious or not, he could see clearly the weight being lifted from the Faerghus people. The singing in the streets, the smell of baked goods and giggling children; the way the citizens had banded together to rebuild the homes they had lost, they way they took care of each other as his name was whispered with blessings, all of these were good signs. He could understand why Gautier and the other lords would be keen on his having a child—but to hear it from Sylvain's father, the same man who had cast his eldest son out into the snow for not presenting a crest, made his teeth ache.

Felix was fairly certain Gautier had only agreed to appoint him to the throne _because _of his Fraldarius crest. The Gautier's house was as prestigious as Felix's own, but he had never insisted on Sylvain being crowned. Despite the power it would bring their name, Gautier simply knew his son's first act as king would have been to demolish the crest hierarchy. With his title and lands likely stripped as a result, he couldn't allow it.

If Felix could have chosen someone to reign in his stead, he would have picked Ashe, because of his warm heart and strong values. But the nobles would not kneel to a commoner, and the kingdom could not risk further discord.

In a way, with decisions being made for him, he was not really king. Merely a figurehead. He wasn't good with political games, and would still rather draw his sword than sit and discuss troop movements with fat, old men. He couldn't help but think that it would have been something the boar would have excelled in, if he hadn't gone and died.

For a moment, that thought hadn't processed in Felix's own mind. When it did, it jarred him enough to cause him to be silent for an extended period of time.

For so long, he had clung to the hope that the boar was out there alive, that Byleth was too, that he had never stopped to accept the possibility that they _were_ dead. His professor had always been so strong, and the prince resilient.

Again he ached to have his sword in hand. To slice something up, to _be in control, _if only to make sense of what was going on in his head. His thoughts were a mess, tangled and choking him in a vice like grip—

What made it different now, to truly think that they were beyond saving? Was it because of the multitude of years that had passed? Or had he finally succumbed and ceased rebelling the hands that moved his fate?

Felix was weak. Weak because he had stopped fighting. He had fought all his life. _Everything _he could think of, he had at one point or another bucked against its constraints. He should have known his perspective was in the midst of changing, once he had realized he'd let his sword dull if it meant the people he cared for could truly be happy; and his care, now that he was king, extended to the people of Faerghus.

And now he _believed_ that Dimitri was dead. That Byleth was dead and that he really was king and _holy fuck_, he swore, was he seriously considering having a child?

The single thought of you came to him in that moment, and it had him freezing in his chair.

"If we win the war, I will consider it," was all he could say, mouth hot and full of cotton. It was enough for the men in the room. They filed out until it was only Gautier that remained.

"Your majesty, if I may," the Margrave extended several portraits of young women, and Felix's blood boiled with every one he saw. He stood up upon seeing Ingrid's face near the top of the pile. How twisted the man had to be to suggest Glenn's fiance so unashamedly.

"I will choose who I take as wife," Felix hissed.

Gautier had the audacity to bristle, "A strong lineage is important. Strong children are important. To choose someone with a crest-"

"Enough," Felix snarled, "crest or not, I will decide who I share my life with." He left the room and slammed the door shut.

He had nearly made it to his chambers when he ran into Sylvain and, for the second time in five years, ran away.

*

You edged the door open with your shoulder, balancing a pot of Almyran Pine Needles on a tray, along with a simple plate of spiced beef and persimmons. Felix had holed himself up in his room after the meeting he had with the Faerghus lords, and judging by the fact he hadn't slept or eaten, figured it had not gone well.

You sat the tray on his overflowing desk. Crumpled papers and empty inkwells littered the rug beneath his chair. You craned your head around to spy a slumped figure near the fireplace.

It seemed exhaustion had finally taken Felix.

His chin was awkwardly propped up by his hand, legs stretched out in front of him with his boots half way off his thighs. Just looking at him, with his shoulders drooped and elbow resting uncomfortably on the arm of the chair, made you wince. He was going to have a kink in his neck when he woke.

His cloak had been discarded haphazardly at his feet, as well as his overcoat and crown, leaving him in his undershirt and trousers and those ridiculous thigh-high boots he had taken to wearing.

He hadn't been bothering to put his hair up lately. When he was sleeping, he looked soft and young, framed by his raven locks. You were loathe to wake him.

"Felix," you nearly whispered. Last time you startled him awake he'd given you bangs. He shifted slightly at your tone.

"Felix, it would be best if you slept in your bed."

You tsked at his lack of response and set about unlacing his boots, only after checking to see if his sword lay in reach. You did not want another haircut. You settled on the floor to get a better grip. By the time he opened his eyes, you had already wrestled one off and flung it to the far corner of the room.

"What are you doing?" His voice was gravelly as he looked down at your bent frame.

"Taking your boots off, obviously," you chimed back, pulling at a particularly tight buckle, "if you're going to fall asleep, at least make it to your bed. Or undress yourself properly." Felix merely grunted, opting to close his eyes again.

"Did you want to tell me what happened in the meeting that's caused you to act distressingly like a hermit?" You inquired gently and threw his remaining boot to the side, all the while standing up to brush the hair out of his face.

The nearness of your proximity no longer put him on edge. He appreciated your touch more often than not. He straightened up as your hand left his cheek.

"There was talk of the kingdom's future," he scoffed, "namely in my producing an heir."

You frowned in response to that, "We're in the middle of a war." The comment earned you a small, lopsided grin.

"That's what I said."

Felix reached out to you and pulled on your arms to bring you closer to him, and you mindlessly went to playing with his hair. It had always been so soft.

"Was it Gautier?"

"Yes."

"Bastard."

He said nothing as he leaned his forehead against your chest, hands on your hips as you stood between his thighs. This was a new development in your relationship. Your skin tingled where his palms sat, but his sudden desire for closeness was a bit unnerving. Whenever he seemed to need a gentle touch of reassurance, you had always been the one to initiate it. Most often with a hand on his shoulder or a quick squeeze on his arm. You were fond of him and respected that there were lines he would not cross.

In the rare quiet moments, Felix sometimes got sentimental, desiring intimacy. As stoic as he seemed, and rightfully was, he was still human and craved contact much like any other person. He just wasn't as quick to be vulnerable enough to accept it, or even comfortable with his own need. He had shrugged your hand from his arm more times than you could count.

"Do you remember the promise we made?"

You hummed in thought, but you must have taken too long to respond to him because his hands slid up to your waist, effectively setting your face on fire, "Felix?"

He wouldn't look at you, "When I was crowned," he offered.

You searched your memory. Felix had seemed so lost and alone on his coronation day, that you had made the rash decision to bind yourself to him. You had offered yourself up, completely and wholly, and told him that there was no place else you would rather be than by his side. You had promised that you would do whatever it took to ensure his burden wouldn't be heavy. He hadn't reacted to much of what came out of your mouth, but he had relied on you ever since. Sylvain had commented offhandedly that you reminded him of Dedue in that way, always stuck to your liege's side.

"Did you mean what you said?"

Your fingers had stalled in his hair. It had been something you had told him at the time in an attempt to provide comfort, and even you hadn't been aware of the weight of your words then. But looking back on the years you had spent with Felix, from Garreg Mach to the present, you could confidently say that yes, you had meant them.

"I did." Your fingers wandered down the nape of his neck to his back, where you rubbed small circles into his skin. He hadn't objected to your touch, and even leaned into your grasp. Felix's boundaries seemed to change depending on his mood, and you were happy that in a moment when he needed you most, he was willing to let his walls come down.

He was still when he asked, "You mean it truly? That you would do anything—whatever it took?"

You pulled back from him and stared, "Yes, I meant it. I mean it."

Felix looked as if he were contemplating life or death. It was truly a sight to behold. Surely, whatever was on his mind couldn't be so serious—

"-would you have my child?"

That startled a laugh out of you. You laughed until you wheezed.

His ears turned red at your apparent rejection, "Stop that."

You had looked at his crimson cheeks and hunched shoulders, and melted with affection. It wasn't like Felix to look so _small_. 

"A simple no would have sufficed," he scowled.

You stopped chuckling long enough to run your hand along his jaw, "I didn't say no, though?" You tilted his chin up so you could look him in the eyes.

Felix _hated_ looking people in the eyes.

But you needed him to see your sincerity.

There had been a curious expression on his face when he finally glanced at you. It toed the line of disbelief and...happiness? It was gone as quick as it had come, although his eyes were still comically wide.

"I-you-?" There was hardly a time when Felix was left speechless; when he spoke he carried himself with confidence. You had effectively struck him dumb. You could see the gears turning in his head.

It had been a long shot for him, to ask you that. A literal stab in the dark. He had loved you for so long and trusted you with his life. He knew he lacked in many ways as a man and wondered why you had chosen to remain at his side—why you always chose to cater to his needs and his whims and his fears.

"I mean," you jerked him from his racing thoughts, "_honestly _not what I was expecting to hear from you today—"

"There's no one else," he interjected quickly, "there's no one else whom I trust more than you."

You tried to hide how you seemed to deflate before him. A silly, hopeful part of you had wished that his request came from a place of endearment and not duty. He had never been one for it, anyway.

In the end, you knew you would offer what you could. If not for Felix, then for the future of the kingdom.

Perhaps that was why he had appointed you as advisor, all those years ago.

But then, "no one else holds my affections. You are the only one I want to rule with, the only one I want to grow old with."

You stood there, eyebrows raised and mouth slightly parted. He had never been one for an outward display of emotion, so Felix's earnest and open confession had caught you off guard. He wouldn't be caught dead whispering you sweet nothings, or showering you with kisses, but it was moments like these that reminded you of how fragile Felix's heart really was. Of how much he had lost and how much he stood to lose again.

His fingers flexed around your waisr, as if you anchored him to the moment, as if he were unable to process what he had said or what he had offered.

"Did you just propose?"

The fire crackled behind the two of you. It cast you in an ethereal glow,and shadowed Felix.

The idea wasn't...preposterous. In fact, your chest was bombarded with butterflies at the thought.

He grumbled something once more and before you could stop yourself, you leaned down to kiss him. It was gentle, timid almost, as your breath ghosted his lips. His eyes fluttered shut at the touch. There was nothing you wouldn't do for him; there was a love in your heart that lived only for Felix, and it seemed he returned your feelings.

But...

"I want to hear you say it," you murmured against his lips, "what is it that I mean to you, Felix?"

You wanted, no, needed, to hear him say it. Bluntly, in his Felix way. His face burned.

"You-you-alright,fine! I love you, and I want you to marry me!" He practically squawked.

You smiled at him, warm and dazzling like the sun, and his embarrassment was momentarily forgotten. He sighed.

"I'm not just saying these things," he admitted, drawing you close to him once more until you settled on his lap, "not for the kingdom, or for you to bare me a child. You mean more to me than you could know."

You chuckled, "I do know."

Once more you flustered him. He breathed out against your skin and his hand made its way down your thigh, towards your fingers. He had always been slightly in awe how small you were next to him, given that he was not an overtly tall man, and your hands were no exception.

_Would it fit?_

There was a shift in Felix's hips when he reached into his pocket, and you had felt something slide onto your finger.

You looked down and gave a noise of admiration. It was band of silver, inlaid with a single, beautiful sapphire. You could tell it had been carefully crafted. It was simple. It was perfect. It was much like Felix.

Was this what he had been preparing in the three days he had shut himself away from the world?

Felix let loose a sound of relief when it sat snugly on your hand. He had begrudgingly asked Ingrid to help him with the size; her hands were bigger than yours but her fingers were thin. And he swore if she _ever _told Sylvain about it he wouldn't hesitate to—

"I love you, too."

You looked up at him with that familiar soft gaze and his heart skipped a beat. The ring shone in the glow of the embers, twinkling on your finger as you reached up to cup his cheek. He moved with you and met your lips with his own.

All at once, it was as if a fire had been ignited in your gut. He grabbed your waist and drew you into him. Your hands reached up to entwine with his dark locks as he deepened the kiss. Felix nipped at your bottom lip, using your sharp inhale to slide his tongue over yours and along your teeth.

But then the door banged open and you jumped apart, saliva dripping obscenely from your lips. You wiped at your mouth with your sleeve, absolutely scarlet, as a guard bent over and wheezed from the doorway.

Any thoughts of marriage and children were thrown far away when he opened his mouth.

"It's his highness! Prince Dimitri!"


End file.
